


I Am Who I Think I Am. But Thank You Very Much.

by daaarkknight (orphan_account)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 7,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21596911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/daaarkknight
Summary: The Dark Knight sleeps, Lord of his own kingdom.
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Implied Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne, Martha Wayne/Thomas Wayne
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: 8. Gotham ships Bruce Wayne x Batman, Batman, Batman Universe Series, Favorite Batman Fics, batman orignal characters





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FabulaRasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FabulaRasa/gifts), [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts), [LemonadeGarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemonadeGarden/gifts), [Unpretty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unpretty/gifts).



> For getting me through some pretty rough times.

The Joker has kidnapped Robin. He is holding him above a chemical vat. Robin is hyperventilating.

_Hold him down!_

_Jesus Christ._

_Bruce._

_Relax._

_It’s me._

Here I am, says the Joker. Come and catch me.

_Bruce. Here I am. Swim to the surface. Come on. You can do it._

You can do it, Robin. Swim. Just keep swimming. I’m coming.

_I’ll always be here for you, Bruce._

I’ll always be here for you, Robin.

_You’re doing great._

You’re doing great.

_You’ve made it._

Bruce Wayne gets up gasping from his bed. All the nurses breathe a sigh of relief.

“Alright. Out! Everybody out! Come on. And undo those goddamn handcuffs.”

“Dick!” Bruce is so happy he nearly leaps out of bed. “It’s so refreshing to see you.”

“Yeah, man, likewise. What a scare you gave everybody.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright. It’s getting better, man. You’re getting better. You’re going to be out of here in no time.”

Bruce Wayne has been an in-patient for twenty years. But he never gets tired of hearing that. And Dick never gets tired of saying it.

Dick is an orderly. Bruce has adopted Dick. It’s legal and everything. Dick is legally a multimillionaire. But he still mops floors and carries a bucket around. 

“How’s work?”

“Same as ever. Cranky, cranky. Everybody hates the darn weather.”

“Yeah.” Bruce doesn’t know what Dick is talking about. He doesn’t know what the weather is like.

“It’s 86 degrees outside! Fucking torture. You know, you’re lucky. You don’t have to sweat it in the heat.”

“Maybe it’s Calendar Man.”

Dick freezes. Then as one, both he and Bruce burst out laughing.

“Yeah. I wish. Must be nice to have a villain for every problem.”

“Did you propose to Barbara?”

“Oh, man. I freaked again. I was sweating a puddle.”

“Jesus, Dick. This is the third time. You have to work up the nerve. Do you want me to do it for you?”

“Would you?”

“No. Jesus. What is even happening to the younger generation.”

“Look at you. Sounding all grown up. Bet you’ve never proposed to anybody in your life.”

“Selina Kyle. She abandoned me at the altar.”

Dick starts laughing. Bruce throws a pillow at him.

“This is my _heart_ we’re talking about here. Which she tossed around like a football.”

“Way to give a brother hope.”

“Yeah. Good luck. And if she writes you a note, it’s bad news. Also, don’t do it on a rooftop. Pin her down in front of lots of people.”

“I’ll try. Although, with Barb, I don’t think that’d stop her if she wanted to walk out on me.”

“Yeah. Tell her to come over some time this year, would you?”

“I do, Bruce. I try. But she’s pinned down under a mountain of paperwork so high even I barely get to see her. I think if I wanna propose, I’ll have to throw the ring over the pile. And if it’s a no, she’ll throw it back.”

“Sounds like a story to tell the kids.”

Tim always comes over to play checkers with Bruce.

Tim is extremely smart. He always wins.

He still comes over every day.

“So, did I like…”

“What.”

“You know. Solve any cases. This time.”

Bruce laughs. “Tim. You’re always solving cases. You’re only the World’s Second Greatest Detective.”

“Oh.” Tim smiles shyly. “I want to be one, you know. When I grow up.”

“Yeah?”

He nods solemnly.

After a while, Tim yawns.

“Can I go to sleep?”

“Sure, Tim.”

_Batman finds Tim asleep at the Batcomputer console. He covers him with his cape._


	2. Chapter 2

The orderlies come and carry Tim Drake into his own bed.

"Bruce. Your Ma's here to see you. Just giving you a heads up." A good natured nurse calls. 

Bruce jumps out of bed, straightens his sheets, fluffs his pillows, toes his dirty laundry underneath, and gets back in. Then he gets comfortable, and falls asleep. 

"Oh, my angel!" Martha Wayne coos fluttering into the room. "What? Is he asleep _again?_ Really, the boy sleeps at the strangest times."

"Oh you know how tired he gets. Poor dear. Saving the world all the time," says the helpful nurse. 

"Well. That's true. He _could_ be doing worse things. Well, if he gets up, tell him I'm at the nail parlor."

Footsteps die away. 

Bruce jumps up. 

"Enjoyed your nap, dear?" asks the nurse. 

"Very much."

She laughs. "You're enough drama for an entire ward. It's tea time and I'm not serving you in bed. Get up."


	3. Chapter 3

Batman is hunting down Poison Ivy. She has poisoned the Gotham water supply, making it unfit for human consumption.

If he doesn't get the antidote from her, millions of innocent people would die. 

And his time is running out. 

Ticktock. 

"You know, you should sell your scripts."

"And what would I do with the money?"

"I dunno. Charity. Donuts. Whatever you want."

Dick has a gash on the side of his face.

"Dick. Who did that." Bruce growls. 

"Relax, Bats. Was a skateboard."

"You _still_ skateboard? You're 21."

"Hey! That's ageist. Skateboarding is just like waterskiing, or hockey. It just gets a bad rep, 'cause of all those jealous grandpas standing on the sidelines going when-I-was-younging."

"I suppose Barb is going to get a mouthful after you get married."

"Oh shit. I hadn't thought of that."

"Marriage?"

"Skateboarding! I wanted to do this regional tournament. Now Barb will never let me go."

"Kid. Let me give you some good advice about how to maintain a secret double life."

"Shoot."

"Rule No. 1. Wear a mask. Rule 2. Practice a different voice. Preferably a deeper, scarier one. Rule 3. Get a butler."

"Thanks."


	4. Chapter 4

Clark Kent is a shy gentleman from Kansas. He comes to the hospital every week to visit his mother.

Bruce and Clark bond over their coffee and Martha Kent's biscuits. (She's allowed in the kitchen.)

It starts when Clark tells Bruce (a faint blush coloring his cheeks) about a comic he's working on.

Clark Kent is singularly uninspired. But his utter lack of confidence in his work is charming. Bruce tells him about his bad dreams.   
"That would never work. Who wants a hero who goes around punching people in the night?"  
"Clark. That is exactly what people want. A hero they can relate to. Not a hero who descends from the sky and solves everything, every single time."  
"I suppose you have a point." Clark Kent acquiesces.   
Clark Kent acquiesces every single time.   
"You know what would make him more relatable?"   
"What?"   
"If he was someone like you."


	5. Chapter 5

Bruce and Tommy are two and naked. They're standing under the sprinklers, enjoying the fresh heat of the afternoon air contrasting against their cool skin. Bruce starts jumping in a puddle. The sound is making Tommy laugh. Bruce starts laughing too. Their mothers look on. They smile.  
"Do you suppose we were once that innocent?"  
"We must have been."  
"Where did it go?"  
Martha looks at the other woman in surprise.  
"What silly questions you ask."

Tommy is six. He and Bruce are playing hide-and-seek. Bruce can't find Tommy. He goes to his father.

"D-dad, Tommy's mi-missing."

"How long has it been, Bruce?"

"Fif-fifteen minutes."

"Okay. Give it fifteen more."

Fifteen more minutes pass. Bruce looks everywhere. 

"Dad. Daddy."

"I can't find Tommy anywhere."

"Something bad has happened."

"Something horrible has happened."

"Bruce," says his father in some surprise. "You're not stuttering anymore."

"Let's go find Tommy, daddy."

"Okay."

They find Tommy in the subterranean batcave. He's broken his neck. 


	6. Chapter 6

Bruce wraps himself in Tommy's Zorro cloak, and parades around the house. 

"He has PTSD," chorus the doctors his parents take him to. 

"He'll snap out of it."

"He'll be fine."

"Children are very resilient."

"He just needs to process his grief."

It is when Bruce starts holding secret conversations with Tommy in the middle of the night that his mother really gets worried. 

"It's okay, Ma. 

"I don't think he's real. 

"I _know_ he's dead."

"Can we not go to any more doctors?

"Tommy wanted to become a doctor."

"Can I become a doctor?

"Tommy wanted to become Zorro.

"I'm going to become Zorro."

"Okay, Bruce.

"You can become whatever you want."


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce keeps falling.

But he wakes up. 

Tommy never woke up. 

One of the doctors his parents took him to catches something: a dark undercurrent under his grief.

Guilt. 

"Bruce blames himself for Tommy's death.

"Do you have any idea why this might be?"

"They were playing hide and seek."

"Ah. But children are not quick to blame themselves for such things."

"What are you trying to say? That my son had something to do with his best friend's death?"

"Not intentionally, no. But all his play-acting. It's an effort to subsume the guilt.

"He may be trying to create another identity. An identity to take the blame."

"Zorro?"

"Why not?" 


	8. Chapter 8

For his eighth birthday, Bruce's parents take him to see _Mask of Zorro._

He chatters excitedly all the way back.

"Did you see how he beat up that evil cop? Bam! Smash! *grunt*" 

His parents look at each other warmly. 

"Tommy would have loved it."

"Yes. He would have," his father says.

"But youwatched it for him."

"Yeah.

"I guess I did."

They pass through a dark alley. Martha's stilettos break, so Thomas has to carry her.

Someone steps out from the shadows. 

"Hands up."

Martha screams. Thomas drops her and quickly steps forward in front of his family. 

"Hey, man. It's cool."

"Wallet. Now."

"Alright." Bruce's father is talking in the soothing tones he uses when Bruce has nightmares.

"Look. I'm putting my hand in my jacket now. Here."

The man is barely more than a child. Thomas hands him the wallet without breaking eye contact. The man is not wearing a mask. That's bad stuff.

"Now her necklace. Go."

"Your pearls, honey."

But Martha is remembering pale hands trembling, pressing the pearls into her palms. Girlish sniffles. A reassuring voice.

"No."

"Honey, he'll kill us. Just give him the damn thing."

"It's all I have left of her, Thomas."

"Honey..."

The man shoots Martha Wayne in the knee. 

"No!"

"Take it from her. Now."

Thomas kneels down. He gently lifts the pearls from his wife's neck. He cannot bring himself to look her in the eye. 

"Here." He stands up and walks towards the man.

"No. Put it down there."

Thomas does. 

"Now take a step back."

He does. 

The man approaches, and picks up the necklace. 

"Can I tend to my wife now?" Thomas asks, his face grim.

"Do whatever the fuck you want."

The man turns. He sees Zorro. 

"You shot my mother."

The thief raises the gun. Zorro kicks him in the groin. 

He crumples.

Zorro picks up the gun. 

"Bruce! No!"

The man whimpers.

"You shot my mother."

"No, please, man. Take the damn necklace. Just...take it. Here."

He holds out the pearls.

Zorro looks down, and sees a coward. A superstitious, sniveling coward. 

"You shot my mother."

Zorro pulls the trigger. 


	9. Chapter 9

That is the night Batman is born. 

Batman doesn't kill people. 

Batman's parents died in that alley.

Bruce feels sorry for Batman. But at least he isn't a murderer. Like Zorro. 

Bruce kills Zorro. 

"Goodbye, Tommy."


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce is kidnapped from the hospital. 

Arkham security is laughable. But no one thought Bruce was in any danger. He mingles with the common folk, so it is easy to forget that his family is worth three billion dollars. 

Bruce's father is beside himself when he gets the ransom demand. 

"Where's Batman when you need him?" 

"Thomas, this is not funny." Martha Wayne wails. "Our son is in the hands of brigands and cutthroats!" 

"Yes. The same son who knows one hundred and thirty two different forms of martial arts."

"Thomas!" Martha puts her face in her hands and weeps plaintively. 

"Relax, Martha. I've already taken the necessary steps. As long as we keep negotiating, we're buying time. They won't kill him. I've got a contact in the CIA on this. They'll find our son. I'm more afraid for the kidnappers right now, when the Great Dark Knight awakes."


	11. Chapter 11

The Great Dark Knight awakes. 

He's suspended from the ceiling on a giant flyhook. He surveys his surroundings. 

He's in a warehouse of some sort. Poorly lighted There are three exit points, all heavily guarded with sub-machine gun-toting men.

He's bound tightly with steel rope, twisted into a straight jacket. He's breathing with some difficulty. 

He counts the points of pain. One. Two. 

Two broken ribs. Not bad.

He's done more with less. 

A man approaches, and presses a button on the control panel on the crane, which lowers the steel cable. He's wearing a red bucket on his head. 

"Red Hood." Batman grits out. "We meet at last."

"In the flesh, Batman." For some reason, Red Hood is wheezing. He either has a bad case of asthma, or a bad case of laughter.

Batman decides asthma.

"I knew you were behind all the madness in Gotham."

"Well, you _are_ the world's greatest detective. But I suppose to every Sherlock a Moriarty."

Batman looks unimpressed with the comparison. 

"Then this is your Reichenbach Falls." He says. He has been talking to distract Red Hood from what his hands were doing.

He had reached into his utility belt (that inexhaustible source of resources) and pulled out a miniature oxyacetylene torch, which he's been using to smelt the metal cables.

Red Hood now notices this.

"Batman. What do you think you are doing."

"I think the technical term for it is 'escape'."

Red Hood wheezes again. This time, it is definitely laughter. 

"You're a hoot, man. Let's see what happens once you make your way out of those."

"I kick your ass. That's what happens."

Batman drops lightly onto his feet. The steel ropes fall with a clang.

"Now. Impress me."

Red Hood steps forward, and pulls out his gun.

"Very impressive," Batman says sarcastically. The bucket looks impatient. 

Batman pulls out a batarang (that inexhaustible source of ass-kicking power) and flings it at Red Hood. It clangs off the bucket.

"Ow!" Red Hood says (which doesn't make any sense, given the whole point of the bucket) and then fires the gun.

Batman is inundated with a steady stream of water.


	12. Chapter 12

Bruce stands up. He's drenched. He's shivering. And he's ravenous. 

"Can I get something to eat?" he asks the man in the red mask carrying the water gun, who is presumably his captor. 

The man points to a half-empty packet of cheetos. Bruce sighs, and picks it up. 

"What's your name?" he asks while munching. 

The man, who is barely 5'8'', looks at him keenly. 

"Jason."

"That your real name?" 

"Yeah."

"And why am I here?" 

"It's all part of my 'Get Rich Insanely Quick' scheme."

"What's the scheme?"

"Step 1: Kidnap mentally compromised billionaire. 

"Step 2: Ask for insanely high ransom for said billionaire.

"Step 3: Make away with said insanely high ransom.

"The End."

Bruce claps. "Impressive. I'm surprised you're the first person who's thought of it."

"Yeah, well. I used to be at the top of my class. Back in sixth."

"Cool."

"You know, you're not a prick."

"Thanks. I got the Good Boy of the Year award back in school."

"Okay, _now_ you're a prick."


	13. Chapter 13

"So basically, I had to pick between robbing a bank with a bunch of innocent hard-working people's cash, or one filthy rich guy who didn't need that much money anyway."

"Banks have insurance." Bruce says. "You'd just be robbing a _bunch_ of filthy rich guys."

"Huh. I hadn't thought of that."

Bruce suddenly stands up. 

"You know what we should do." His face is alight. "We should rob a bank."

Jason looks doubtful. "I don't know, man. Shouldn't I be waiting on the pile I'm already sitting on?"

"My father will never pay you the money. Trust me. He's got nerves of steel, especially when it comes to other people. And you haven't got the stomach for what's supposed to come next."

"That's true." Jason considers. "But how do I know I can trust you?" 

"You don't. But seeing as how I'm currently your only other option, you don't seem to have a choice." Bruce's face lights up. "I know exactly how to pull off a bank heist with a minimum of fuss."

"Yeah? And how exactly would you know that?" 

"I'm a world-renowned criminologist."

Jason looks suspicious. "You mean, the same way you're the world's greatest detective?" 

"No. Not Batman. Me. It gives my fantasy plenty of material to feed on."

Jason is too impulsive not to try a bank heist. Especially when a world-renowned criminologist offers his help. Besides, Jason has an inkling that what Bruce has said about Thomas Wayne is true. Looking into Thomas Wayne's eyes, you felt sorry for the man who crossed him. 

"Fine. I'll get the guns and the ski masks."

"No. No ski masks. And only toy guns."

"So what are we gonna wear on our faces?" 

"Nothing. What we wear on the rest of our body is what matters."

Jason raises his eyebrows. "So we're gonna cross-dress?" 

Bruce likes this kid. He can keep up. "No one says no to a lady." 

And that was how two heavily set ladies held up the cashier at Gotham Central, and demanded 'all the damned goods' in squeaky voices. 

The police give chase. Bruce is driving, for some reason. He's taking all the wrong turns. Jason has a bad feeling in his stomach. 

He wrenches the steering wheel. "Take a left!" he screams. 

It finally dawns on him. "You don't wanna get away!" 

"Where's the fun in that?" Bruce smiles.

"You know the best part about being mentally compromised? You can get away with anything."

"You set me up! You unholy, unrighteous _fuck!_ " 

Bruce laughs. "Good boy of the Year Award, remember?" 

Jason is being led away by the police. He gives Bruce the bird. 

"I'm not gonna sue." Bruce tells him. "And I'll get you the best lawyer. With any luck, you'll end up right next to me in Arkham."

"Hey! I don't wanna end up in no mental hospital!"

"Trust me. Arkham gets a bad rep. But all my best friends are there."

"That's not the recommendation you think it is."

"He did _what?_ " Thomas Wayne screams.

"Why did he need to rob a bank? He's a billionaire!" Martha says, dismayed. 

"Well, we think he was talked into it by his associate. This guy." The police commissioner hands them a file. Thomas opens it. Blue flinty eyes stare out from a face aged beyond its years. _Jason Todd. Age: 17,_ says the caption.

"Of course. That must be it. Thank you, commissioner, for bringing our son home safe."

"My pleasure." nods Commissioner Gordon. "I know what it's like to have a kid who's soft in the head." He leaves. 

"Soft in the head, indeed." Thomas mutters. "I'll bet my fortune Bruce talked this poor kid into doing this. _He's gonna get it._ " Thomas shakes his fist. 

"Oh, Thomas." Martha Wayne sighs. "Look on the bright side. Our son isn't dead. And we're not beggars on the street."

His face relaxes. "Well, there's that."


	14. Chapter 14

Dick Grayson and Tim Drake look suspiciously at the new arrival. 

The new arrival is also suspicious. _Who knows what kind of psychos these normal-looking individuals are?_

"Hello. I am Tim. I killed my mother." Tim Drake introduces himself.

Almost impossibly, Jason is feeling worse.

"That _is_ what you were wondering, right?"

"Yeah," he agrees weakly. "Why did you kill her?"

"Because she slept with my father."

Having dropped this ounce of clarity, Tim withdraws shyly. 

"And what's _your_ name, handsome?" Jason leers at Dick.

"I'm engaged."

"Hello, engaged. I'm Jason. And what did they put you in here for? Being too motherfucking gorgeous?"

"I'm an orderly," Dick sputters. He's not used to being flirted with. _He's a janitor, for God's sake._

 _"_ Oh. Well, feel free any time to clean my..."

"Okay, stop." Dick says, pinching his nose. "I'm straight."

"Yeah, so am I."

"So what the fuck was up with all that hardcore shit?"

"Just wanted to make you uncomfortable, my man." Jason leans back and grins.

Dick boxes his ear. Jason looks shocked.

But that gets rid of the rest of the ice.

"He's Richard, by the way. Goes by Dick. By choice." Tim informs Jason.

Jason bursts out laughing.

"Yeah. Real layered taste in humor, you've got." Dick says. But he's smiling too. 

"Any idea where I can get a shiv around here?" Jason asks them conspiratorially.

"Why. You wanna do in Bruce?" Dick asks. 

"Yeah. He tell you why?" 

"Yeah."

"Real bastard, that one. Did a number on me."

"Then it's good you're going to be roommates."

"We're _what?_ " Jason sits up. "The _fuck?_ " 

"Congratulations, Jason. You're the new Robin." Tim smiles. He and Dick high five. 

"There'll be plenty of time to stick a shiv in him on patrol."


	15. Chapter 15

Bruce has written three pop culture books on criminology. His _How to Solve a Murder in 10 Minutes_ series, filled with 'real life' cases from his 'experience' as a vigilante detective, has hit the top of the bestseller lists. The fact that the author is in Arkham doesn't hurt.

His _500 Practical Ways to Dispose of a Dead Body_ also became a bestseller before it was put on the CIA watchlist. It's also part of the coursework for young agents.

But his most popular work is _How to Overcome Trauma: a Guide to Gaining Back Control of Your Life._ Also based on personal experience. 


	16. Chapter 16

Bruce's parents tell him they're getting a divorce. 

"It's okay, honey." His mother reassures him. "We talked it over. We're going to part amicably."

"Yes. We'll still be your parents." His father says.

This has come out of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. Bruce blinks. Some breakfast in his stomach would have been nice, first.

"Okay. Wait a minute. Maybe I missed the part where you gave me a _reason_ you're throwing thirty years of your life away."

"Son," his father says. "We're not throwing anything away. We don't regret meeting each other. We don't regret _marrying_ each other. And we sure as hell don't regret raising you together."

His mother nods. "We regret nothing. We're not canceling out any part of our lives. We're just moving in different directions, that's all."

"Okay." Bruce digests this. "I'm still missing the part where you gave me the _reason._ "

"Bruce." His father says. "We have different life goals."

"Okay. You know what, why don't you leave and come back when you've decided to cut out the crap? What _life goals?_ I've known you both long enough to know you don't have any. Besides earning money and spending it. And those are fairly compatible."

"Your father had an affair." His mother tells him. 

Bruce digests this. He finds it hard on his stomach. 

"With a man."

It's definitely a rock. 

"What man." Bruce grits out.

"Bruce."

"What _man,_ Dad?" He stands up, his fists clenched, the veins on his temples sticking out.

"Bruce. I want you to listen to me very carefully. Sit. Down."

"Because please, tell me, at least tell me you threw away what we had, what we built, for _love,_ and not because you couldn't control your _libido._ "

"Bruce. Do you know how hard it is, to find out, to finally accept the fact that you are _different_? To be on the other side of the line, throwing rocks at what you think are foreigners, _strangers,_ only to wake up one day and discover you had been on this side of the fence the whole time?"

"Yeah, Dad, you deserve a medal."

"Imagine what it would be like for me to discover I have been _crazy_ this whole time."

"Thomas."

"Jeez. Dad. Don't mind my feelings or anything."

"It's a complete paradigm shift!" Thomas walks around sieving his hands through his hair.

"Yeah. At 55. You discover you're not straight at 55."

"We never stop growing, Bruce. We never reach the finish line."

"Apparently you've become Confucius too, in the meantime."

"Bruce. Your mother and I both love you very much. But I'm not going to lie and tell you that nothing's changed. _Everything's_ changed. And I know how you cope with change."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" Bruce is angry. At all times he appreciated his father's brutal honesty, but this was getting to be too much of a good thing.

"It means, and I quote, 'for the truly enlightened mind, change is an illusion. As long as said mind is willing to let go of what it considers its most precious resource, its sanity, change can become a thing of the past'."

"I was being factitious, Dad."

"Your mother and I don't think so."

"Alright. So hold me guilty for my views on sanity."

"You know I think sanity is overrated. You're no less of a person because you're insane. But we still think we should give you a secure home environment while you adapt to the change."

"You're taking me home?"

"We've already applied for leave. For medical reasons."

"And I don't get any say in the matter?"

"You're allowed to take whoever or whatever strikes your fancy at the asylum. As long as it is not too big, or too noisy."

"Dick is both."

They look at him blankly. 

"Get it?"

"Don't make us regret this, Bruce." His mother warns. "And I will not have that mother killer in the house."

"Tim is perfectly normal in every other respect. You'll be fine. As long as you don't treat him like a child. Sometimes it helps to imagine that he has some condition that has de-aged him. Physically."

"And I suppose you'll want to bring your kidnapper too."

"Batman doesn't leave his Robins behind."

His mother sighs. "I can already tell I'm going to regret this."


	17. Chapter 17

Clark Kent comes to bid goodbye to Bruce. His mother is getting out.

"Don't worry." He says. "It's only a matter of time before she holds up another jewellery store."

"I'm not worried."

"Oh."

"You can come and visit whenever you want."

"Arkham visitation policy is---"

"Proportional to your bank account."

"Right. Of course."

The shadow that Bruce wasn't even aware was sitting on his face disappears. 

"Well. I should go. I'm taking up too much of your time."

"Right. Because of my busy schedule."

Clark laughs. "Don't you have a city to protect or something?"

"Don't even start with me. One Alfred is enough."

Clark laughs, open mouthed, revealing a perfect set of pearly teeth.

"So. Alfred. Is that...you know...someone real?"

Bruce is quiet for so long, Clark isn't sure if he's heard him. 

"Yes."

"Oh.

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine." Bruce wipes something that looks suspiciously like a teardrop from his cheek. "He left. After. Batman. He felt he wasn't needed."

"Oh."

"I even proposed to him that he should set the house on fire, so they'll put him next to me. You know what he called me?"

"What?"

"Crazy."

"Oh."

"True, but still hurt."

"Well, there's brutal and then there's cruel. It wasn't the word, but the context."

"Well, Alfred was both. I just never thought he'd be both to _me._ "

"He was a badass?"

"Very much so." Bruce laughed. "He trained Zorro."

"Oh. So he was... _in_ on it?"

"Yeah. But Bats rubbed him the wrong way."

"The no killing thing?"

"No. The other thing."

"Oh.

"Yeah. I can understand."

"He loved Martha. Very much."

"Oh."

"He couldn't understand why I would just let her _die_ like that."

"Hm."

"He'd have jumped in front of the bullet."

"Would he?"

"Yes.

"Yes he would."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is angst-laden, and gets pretty graphic. If you're not up for it, you'll know when to skip.

Leslie Thompkins is the only person in Bruce's life who refuses to participate in his fantasy. 

So Bruce doesn't take his medicine. As punishment.

"You're denying a part of my life! You're denying me the right to have an identity."

"No. I'm simply asserting that _your_ reality doesn't correspond with most people's."

"You mean a part of my reality. A _part._ And isn't that true of everyone? Doesn't everyone have a part of themselves they don't share with others for fear that they will be told it's not real?"

"Yes. But pathology is determined by the extent to which a person is able to function in _regular_ society. And despite being a celebrity author, Bruce, you are not."

"Hence the medication."

"Yes."

"Well, has it occurred to you, Oh Wise One, that maybe I don't _desire_ to function in normal society? Do you know how many people there are out there that are are fucking miserable, blow-their-brains-out miserable, that would be _happy_ here? But no, they'd rather die than go insane. Because of people like you."

Leslie Thompkins sighs, and takes off her glasses. "On days like this, Bruce, I question my own sanity." She rubs the bridge of her nose.

"Good. You should."

"You can talk anybody into anything, or out of anything. You should have been the psychiatrist. But that's just it, Bruce. You _can't,_ because you're clinically insane. You should be helping people. Actual people. Instead, you spend your time rescuing _fantasy_ orphans and cat burglars and what have you, when there are _real_ problems in the _real_ world that you could solve.

"You're right, Bruce. Maybe we would _all_ be happier if we were insane. Maybe _I_ would be happier if Ibelieved I was the Queen of Spain. In fact, I almost certainly _would_ be. And so what if others called me mad? My courtiers and jesters and servants would be validation enough.

"But at the end of the day, Bruce, I'm just another overworked, underpaid doctor who's behind on her rent. And no, if you offer me any money I will stab you. There are days I wish that weren't the case.

"You know, I wasn't always a saint. In college, I flunked for two years because of the mountains of coke I did. And I tried to induce dissociative amnesia."

"Why?"

"That's besides the point."

"It is _so_ not."

"Shut up, Bruce. Let me get back into my rant. The flow was good."

"No." He leans forward and frowns. "Leslie. _Why_ did you try to induce dissociation?"

Leslie takes a deep breath. She gets up out of her chair.

"I've never talked about this."

"So much for healthy therapeutic habits."

"Yeah. So much for that."

"I tried to forget because my father raped me. Every day. From the time I was eight until the day I was sixteen.

"I became pregnant three times. He _liked_ it, the fucker. Called it 'getting heavy with his seed'." 

Tears roll down from Bruce's eyes. 

"Leslie. I had no idea. I'm sorry."

"And what are you sorry for?"

"For--"

"For what, Bruce? Being so _harsh_ with me? Because now I'm a fragile baby, cause I got pregnant with my father's kids?"

"No. I had no idea how strong you were. I treated you like you were weak, like you were foolish. Like you didn't know--"

"What it's like on the other side?"

Bruce nods. He feels so ashamed. 

"I'm sorry I misjudged you."

"Everything's not always about you.

"So, anyway. Funny how once you start, you can't stop. This story has a happy ending.

"I killed the fucker. But not before I raped him. I pushed a broom - yes, you're going to hear this, you asked for it. I raped him. I starved him for days. I beat him. And when he was nearing the end of his line, I lit him on fire and burned him alive."

"Yes. That's another thing you don't know about me, Bruce. You think _you're_ vengeance? Because you killed the guy who shot your mother? This guy was _begging_ me to put him out of his misery. Every day, he begged. And every day, I laughed in his face.

"You see, Bruce, they say filial love is natural. But it's not. It has to be earned. It has to be _felt._ It doesn't just pop out of nowhere. Hell hath no fury, Bruce, like a child scorned.

"So yes. Maybe I belong with you. Maybe I belong here. On the other side. But I'm not going to confess. And no one's going to believe you, should you ever choose to betray my confidence."

Leslie sits down and puts her glasses on. 

"Where were we?" She smiles. 


	19. Chapter 19

_Hell hath no fury like a child scorned._

Bruce can't sleep that night. Everytime he falls asleep, he wakes up with a start, imagining he felt a kick in his womb.

It's no wonder Leslie doesn't have any children. It's no wonder she doesn't have any life besides her work. 

It was torn from her. It was ripped from her and shredded to pieces. 

Bruce remembers Leslie's dry eyes as she recounted the story of her innocence lost. 

There were no tears left to shed.

He wants to hug her. He wants to hug her and cry. 

He just hugs the pillow instead. 


	20. Chapter 20

Finally, the Day comes. 

They have to be discreet about it. They can't just walk out the door swinging hands, without it ending up on the front page of some newspaper.

Arkham Asylum can be a pretty discreet place, if you know how to work the system. 

All the nurses, doctors and orderlies are paid off, one by one. Again, _discreetly._

So are the patients who aren't too far out of touch. Or they're given presents. 

Bruce knows the patients pretty well. He compiles a list. With the end result that he's now the most popular fucker in town on this side of the Atlantic. 

There's _one_ doctor who can't be tempted, no matter the price. Bruce puts on his kid gloves. 

Turns out he didn't need to. Leslie is more than happy to let him have his vacation. It's the holiday season, and she has her hands full. Having her most troublesome patient taken off them seems almost like a godsend at this point.

Bruce hasn't been home in twenty years. He doesn't know what to expect.

He expects everything to be the same. He expects everything to be different. He expects too much. He expects too little. 

He sometimes doesn't expect anything at all. He imagines the Manor in his dreams rising up into the clouds like in a cheesy fairytale, with him in it, wearing a sparkly gown and married to a handsome prince.

He's going to ignore that last part. 

He's still surprised. Although he had expected almost everything. Including the Manor now being made of gingerbread.

What he hadn't expected, was there being nothing at all. 


	21. Chapter 21

"So let me get this straight. The manor isn't there? It hasn't been there for twenty years?"

"Eighteen."

"And nobody saw fit to tell me this. All this time."

"We wanted it to be a surprise."

"Well, I'm surprised."

"Hah!" ejaculates his father uncharacteristically.

Bruce subdues him with a look. 

"So. Where's the wreckage."

"Aren't you going to ask us what happened?"

"Dad. Just because I'm not the greatest detective in the world in real life doesn't mean I'm a complete idiot. I leave explicit instructions with _my_ butler to raze it to the ground, and join me. He didn't do the latter so I assumed he hadn't done the former either."

Both his parents are staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and alarm.

" _You_ told him. To do that. And all this time, we've been blaming _him!"_

 _"_ Well, it doesn't look like you've missed it too much."

"That's true, Thomas." Martha says. "He does have a point. If it weren't for him, we would never have discovered the greenhouse."

"The greenhouse?" 

"We've been living there."

"In the greenhouse."

"Thomas, do you want to tell him?" 

"No, Martha. You tell it so much better."

"Thomas..."

"Oh for God's sake spit it out."

"Well, you see, son, your mother and I weren't _together_ in that way. For many years before our split."

"Okay..."

"And together, we discovered a passion for the stars."

"Specifically, sleeping under them." Martha interposes. "It all started one dreamy Valentine's night, when Alfred suggested we spend a night outside under the stars. Now in hindsight, he may have had his own reasons for so suggesting, but we, lovestruck fools that we were..."

"Are." Bruce puts in. 

His father looks away. 

"We decided to give it a go."

"Mom. Let's cut to the part where you moved into the greenhouse."

"Well, we cuddled..." 

"Mom, I said skip."

"No. It's important to the story. We cuddled, and then Thomas here suggests I take off my dress."

"Mom!" Bruce cowers in horror. 

"Relax, your mother's just pulling your leg."

Martha Wayne is indeed in stitches. 

"Haha."

"So there are too many mosquitoes outside. I'm afraid it doesn't get any more romantic than that."

"So you decide to shift to the greenhouse. And then you get comfortable there. And that's where you stay for twenty years."

"Eighteen."

"The End." Concludes his father. 

"Why is it that _I_ take the trouble of going through the entire story, and _you're_ the one who gets to put the finishing flourish on top?" 

"I only said 'The End'!" 

Martha Wayne walks off in a huff. 

Thomas looks after her in wonder. 

"You know, thirty years with that woman, and I still haven't figured her out."

"You and me both." Bruce pats his father on the shoulder in what he hopes is setting a new tone for the length of his stay. Firm, but friendly. No pushover.

"What happened when you had guests?"

"That was a bonus. We _couldn't._ Your mother could go to all the parties she wanted, and no worries about returning the favor. Every time somebody asked us why we didn't have anymore birthday bashes, New Year's Eve celebrations, or charity galas in our 'beautiful, beautiful home', we simply shrugged and told them our home burned down and we now lived in a greenhouse."

"So my genius is hereditary."

"Apparently."

"Well. It doesn't matter. As long as you're both happy."

Thomas looks uncomfortable.

"No, I don't mean together. I mean happy. Whether apart or together, you'll always make a great team.

"I want to embrace change, Dad. I don't wanna end up like Tommy, with a broken neck, because I couldn't take the fall.

"Can you ask me the question?"

His father rolls his shoulders back.

"Why do we fall, Bruce?" 


	22. Chapter 22

"So. Where's the gaggle."

"They're _supposed_ to be here. Any second now."

The three figures look around, as if expecting the boys to emerge from the hedges.

"Bruce. You don't think."

"No, dad. They wouldn't."

"Think _what?_ " Martha asks. 

"That they've taken a detour. Permanently."

"No. They wouldn't be that stupid."

They _were,_ in fact, that stupid. Or at least one of them was. 

"Jason! Come back here!" 

Dick is running after Jason on a crowded subway platform. He's carrying Tim on his back. 

"Wake me when you catch him."

"Jason!" 

Jason is expertly dodging in and out of the crowd. Dick is losing him. He comes to a halt, panting. 

Tim picks up the baton. 

"Jason! 

"Please don't leave.

"I have feelings for you. 

"I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have that wonderful cock in my vicinity. My ass would feel so empty. For the rest of my life."

Jason stops. Comes to a dead halt. Half the station is standing with its mouth open. 

"Go to him." One person says.

A few tears are being brushed away. 

"Go to him." There's a chorus. 

"No. Wait. You don't understand...

"I don't even _know_ him!

"He's just some creepy fucker who ran away from an asylum."

"How would he know that if he didn't know me?" Tim proclaims triumphantly. 

The crowd is pushing the two 'lovers' together. There's nothing a Gotham crowd liked better than some hostile displays of affection. 

"Got you, you..." Tim splutters. 

"Can't think of a name, can you?" 

"No."

"You're as twisted as your master." 

"We're a family, sweetheart. And Bruce wants you too. Trust me. Five-years-older you is thanking me right now. Bruce wants to adopt you."

"You mean.."

"Yeah. He has some addiction to strays. Congratulations, get-rich-quick kid. You've hit the fucking jackpot."

Jason walks back without batting an eyelid after that. They pick up Dick, who has collapsed from overexertion, and slinging one arm over each neck, drag him unceremoniously onto the subway. 


	23. Chapter 23

"I'm sorry.

"I tried escaping." says Dick.

"I don't believe you." says Bruce.

"You will. Are you sure you and your 'sons' are not biologically related?"

"No quotation marks."

"What?"

" _There will be no air quotes._ "

"Okay, I'm sorry."

"If you weren't Dick, I would have punched you."

"Okay, Bruce?" Dick says. "One more joke and I'm changing my name."

"That's not the threat you think it is."

Tim settles into the greenhouse comfortably, among the roses. Jason looks around him with disgust. He was clearly expecting more. 

"So where do you guys take a shit?"

"Among the roses."

Tim leaps up with a shout. Martha and Thomas Wayne burst out laughing.

"Excuse my parents. They're temporarily seventeen."

"Must be something about this hothouse." Jason says. 

"Not improbable."

"Please tell me you guys have wifi." Tim says. 

"Of course. We're not savages." Thomas assures him. 

"No, you only excrete in pits and bathe in an underground cave." Jason says. "I've been more civilized in a third-rate motel."

"Hey. Better a millionaire hobo than a broke street urchin with a roof over your head, am I right?" Dick says 

"What are you talking about, there _is_ a roof over our heads." Martha Wayne sniffs, offended.

But unbeknownst to any of them, Bruce had chosen this very opportune moment to sneak out onto the roof to test it's 'structural integrity'.

Turns out, it did not have much.

There is a sound. And a crash. 

Everybody blinks.

"I thought this sort of thing only happened in very bad movies." says Thomas. 

"Or very bad fanfiction," says Tim. 

Bruce is banished. But since everyone else is in the same boat, the banishment doesn't have the admonishing effect on him his parents desire.

"We should get a cow. And start a farm." Bruce says dreamily. They're all out under the stars, wrapped up in blankets.

"Now, now son, don't get ahead of yourself. Do you know how much effort a cow is?"

"No. I should ask Clark."

"Who's Clark?" 

"He's my _friend._ "

Thomas looks surprised. 

"You never mentioned you had a friend. Who wasn't...you know..."

"Insane?"

"Or an orderly."

"Dad. You will not refer to Dick as that in his hearing. _Ever._ He was never given the chances _I_ was given. Despite that, he didn't make the choices Jason made. He didn't try to 'get rich quick'. He wasn't there for me because he was my son, or because he was hoping to get adopted. He's the best effing person I've ever met."

"Fucking."

"I'm sorry?"

"Best _fucking_ person you've ever met. You're not a kid anymore. Swear like a man."

Bruce sighs. "Here it comes."

"Stick around, son."

"What?"

"Stick around, this time."

Thomas Wayne rolls over.

Just when his eyes are drooping, he hears a soft "okay". 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, basically, this is the end. I'm not adding an epilogue, because I want to leave it to readers' imaginations. There can be several possible endings, and please share in the comments which is the likeliest outcome (according to you!)
> 
> a. Does Bruce continue 'being' Batman?  
> b. Does he go back to Arkham?  
> c. Does he go looking for Alfred? 
> 
> Thank you for taking this journey with me! I look forward to having you all back for my next fic.


End file.
